The Old Ways
by claraoswelve
Summary: Whouffaldi Prompt: 12 hits his head and thinks he is 11 fez, bow tie, and all. And maybe he thinks he is 11 from before he met any of Clara's echoes.


"What am I wearing?"

"Doctor..."

"And what's going on with my hair?"

"Doctor!"

"Can't talk. Bit busy. Fashion crisis. Be back in a mo!"

Clara stumbled backwards and plopped down into the jump seat with an exasperated sigh. Her hands were almost shaking at this point, a dangerous combination of nerves and frustration threatening to send her teetering over the edge of sanity. Head hung low she fixed her gaze on a certain spot on the floor, taking a much needed breath.

Sane and clear-minded, the Doctor was already impossible at times. But concussed and confused, he was far beyond hope.

It had been another TARDIS error, of course. The ship had taken a turn for the worse, jerking back and forth, swaying from side to side, sending both companions sprawling against the floor in the aftermath. Clara had walked away unscathed, an almost thrilled smile on her face. The Doctor had not been quite as fortunate.

He wasn't any sort of danger health wise, as far as she could tell at least. But after toppling against the railing his memory had suffered a bit of turbulence.

He was... reverting to old ways in a manner of speaking. In a way, it was a bit amusing. Yet at the same time... impossibly agonizing.

"That's better." Clara heard him chime from across the room as he... _skipped... _back in.

Her breath was nearly taken away at what she saw.

He'd managed to scramble up his old purple tweed jacket. It hung loosely around his shoulders while he worked at the buttons, simultaneously scowering the space around, above and below him for his most prized possession. "Where are you..." He muttered under his breath, left hand working it's way back and forth across his collar.

Everything else she'd tried had miserably failed. Reasoning was going nowhere, hopelessly trying to explain was useless, so Clara resulted in her final option. Playing along.

"Aha!" She heard come from beneath the console, realizing she hadn't even noticed him duck beneath the ramp to rummage aimlessly through a few cupboards. "Gotcha!"

"Oh my god..." She muttered.

It was all topped off with the purple bow tie. The doctor launched his way back onto the main level of the room and spun a full circle, hands in the air. "What do you think?"

"It's..." Clara had to spend a minute searching for the right word. She felt a brief surge of longing at the sight, a pang of loss as she thought back to _her _Doctor. Her bow-tie wearing, fez addicted idiot. As much as she loved her current, she couldn't help but admit that he was far from the same. "You look great."

"Brilliant! You're quite nice, you are." He walked away, slightly hunched with a lowered head like he used to do when he was in deep thought. He wrung his hands together, then spun back around to face Clara. "Speaking of you, who exactly _are _you?"

She felt her legs grow weak and her mind weary. This wasn't happening. "No... no, no, no, Doctor, it's me."

"Me..." He tapped his chin in thought. "Me... Me... not sure I know a Me."

"You're not being serious right now." She shook her head with a disappointed scowl. "No, this is all just one big joke. It's_ Clara!_"

"You just said that your name was Me!"

"_Me _isn't a name you idiot!"

"So you just told me two different names." He stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"_Clara._" She groaned.

"Might be Clara, might not be."

"It _is _Clara!"

"It's a roller coaster, this conversation." He tsked, strolling away. "Oh!" He exclaimed, hands shooting out of his pockets to feel about the top of his head. "Something's missing... something's missing... what's missing?" He spun around and stormed back to Clara, waggling his index finger in front of her face. "You. Me. Clara. Whatever your name is. Tell me what's missing."

"A smaller ego?" She muttered under her breath.

He scowled at that, rolling his eyes as he stalked away again. "Aha!" He departed to the lower level.

Clara's frustration was nearly coming out of her ears when he came back up.

The Doctor. The gray-haired, stick insect of man that spent his days dressing as magician from a horror film was now clad in purple tweed, a bow-tie, _and a fez. _

"That's better!" He chimed, hands in the air for show as he spun yet another circle.

"No." Clara stormed up, ripped the hat from his head and threw it aside. "_You _don't get to do this. You regenerated. You don't wear bow ties, you don't wear fezzes, you're not an Adrian anymore!"

"I didn't regenerate. Did you regenerate? I didn't as far as I remember. Which isn't much, I'll grant you." He huffed, but a considering look appeared briefly on his face. He turned around and approached the console, keeling over slightly to catch sight of his reflection in the mirror. His eyes widened slightly, his fingertips brushed across his face, and his hand ran through his hair.

"What's wrong?" She asked hopefully, praying he was coming to whatever senses he could manage.

He just let out a sound akin to a growl, storming back in her direction with a pout. "Still not ginger!" He began humming for no apparent reason, face scrunching. "I'm Scottish now- I've gone Scottish! Thanks a lot, Amy!" He looked up and shook a fist in the air. "I'm blaming you for this!"

She felt helpless. Her memory flickered back to the last time she'd seen him like this. The last time she'd seen him in this body, but with these clothes. The last time he'd seemed so confused. So out of it. Even Clara herself had been nearly out of her mind with frustration.

"For God's sake." She reeled back and threw her arms forward and to the side, delivering a harsh blow across his cheek with her palm. "Wake up, Doctor!"

The Doctor stumbled back, hands slightly raised and eyelids fluttering rapidly. He shook his head once his balance was regained gaze fixed straight into Clara's. He stared at her for a moment, moving forward, then back, lowering his head to match her height. "What's gone wrong with your eyes?" He demanded. "Don't know how you manage to get a date with eyes like that. Even with P.E."

And then she was laughing. Clara threw her head back in relief, retreating a few steps to slump backwards against the console. "Welcome back, Doctor."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sorry it took me so long to get around to this. Hope it's okay :)**


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